


tomorrow tends to show

by theundiagnosable



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Proposals, a deeply stupid valentines day oneshot because i know what i'm about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 23:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17776478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theundiagnosable/pseuds/theundiagnosable
Summary: Zach calls his mom the night before Valentine’s Day to ask if she got the flowers he ordered and gets an earful of shrieking before he can even say hi.“Did you say yes, did you say yes?!”“Did I-” Zach fumbles his phone, taken aback, and nearly drops it in the sink full of soapy water, but manages to hold it away from his ear. “What?”





	tomorrow tends to show

Zach’s family is great, and he loves them a lot, but they’re also collectively the least subtle group of people on the entire planet, which he’s always kind of known but doesn’t fully grasp the magnitude of until he calls his mom the afternoon before Valentine’s Day to ask if she got the flowers he ordered and gets an earful of shrieking before he can even say hi.

“Did you say yes, did you say yes?!”

“Did I-” Zach fumbles his phone, taken aback, and nearly drops it in the sink full of soapy water, but manages to hold it away from his ear. “What?”

“Did he say yes?” comes his dad’s voice, and then his mom’s back, thankfully at a slightly more normal volume this time.

“Zach, should I get your grandma on the phone, yes or no? I have her waiting for a call because it had a feeling it was going to be tonight, and I _knew_ it, I told her, I’m his mother, I know these things-”

“Let him speak!” Zach’s dad says, and the line goes quiet, and Zach…. has legitimately never been more confused in his life. He was just trying to be a good son while doing dishes. Two birds with one stone, that kind of thing. Two birds with one son?

“I have literally no idea what you guys are talking about,” he says, putting his bird metaphors aside. His mom’s still talking, like he didn’t even speak.

“Because you know what, good things come to those who wait, that’s what I always told you, to wait for the right one,” she’s gushing. “And right before Valentine’s day, it’s so _romantic_ -”

“Mom!” Zach cuts her off, completely at a loss. A soap bubble floats past his face, like it’s teasing him. He wonders if this is a prank. “What’s romantic?”

“William came and asked us permission,” his mom says, like Zach’s being the world’s biggest dunce, here.

“Permission to what?” he asks, because his family loves Willy and Zach’s pretty sure it’s mutual, but he didn’t think they were in the habit of hanging out without him there.

“…wait a minute,” Zach’s dad says, like it’s just now occurring to him that something might be amiss. “Hon-”

Zach’s mom doesn’t wait for him to finish. “To propose, genius!”

Zach drops his phone right in the sink.

\---

The thing is, if Zach looks at things purely objectively, it’s not unreasonable that an engagement would be in the cards. It’s a logical next step, insofar as relationships can really have steps. He and Will have been together for more than two years. They’ve dealt with contracts and telling the team and meeting the families and moving in together, all the big stuff. And sure, yes, Zach is still occasionally baffled by the idea that someone like Willy would genuinely want to be with someone like him, but he also trusts the evidence in front of him, and he figures that two years is a decent enough sample size to drown out any self-esteem issues.

They work, him and Will, is the thing. They work in ways Zach couldn’t have even predicted, back when they were getting started, like- like complimentary colours, or filling in the blanks, every new thing he learns about Willy slotting in and somehow just _working._ And sure, they’re different in a lot of ways, but they agree on the important stuff, like it’s weird but secretly nice that their moms are best friends, and no sex the day before games or publishing deadlines, and Mitchy’s as loveable as he is annoying, but only just. They work, and getting engaged just makes sense.

And it’s kind of funny: Zach always just sort of assumed he’d be the one to propose. Not that he’s ever been particularly invested in doing it one way or another, it just seemed obvious, with him and Will. He didn’t think this was the kind of thing Willy put thought into – usually Zach’s the one dragging them into adulting, all the serious talks and stuff, because Willy’s always seemed perfectly content to just- to _be_ together without a lot of questions. Always enthusiastic as anything when Zach suggested moving in together or meeting the parents, but never really suggesting that stuff either, which Zach used to stress about until he realized that that’s just how Willy is.

So that was that, really, in Zach’s head. He would get down on a knee and Willy would do his ridiculous happy face that makes him look a decade younger than he is, only Willy apparently wants to be the one proposing, enough that he planned ahead and spoke to Zach’s _parents_ – which, what – and it’s so, so much bigger than Zach could have ever imagined, realizing that. In a nice way, mostly, except for the small issue that the proposal hasn’t actually happened yet, and the significantly larger issue that, well-

_Valentines Day?_

Willy’s planning to propose on Valentines Day?

That’s the first thing that goes through Zach’s head after he drops his phone, not the proposal or the permission or his parents being ridiculous, but _Valentines Day, seriously?,_ and he hates himself for it, really, but fucking Valentines Day?

It’s so _cliché._ It’s- it’s tacky, is what it is. Zach prides himself – he prides them, actually, him and Willy both – on having a surprisingly functional, cliché-free adult relationship. Not the kind of relationship where they need a crappy money-grab of a holiday to facilitate the biggest decision they’re ever going to make as a couple, and sure, Zach usually goes along with whatever Willy plans every February 14th, but Willy knows that he’s doing it begrudgingly, or Zach assumed he knew, or at least that he knew Zach enough not to try to propose as some kind of Valentines surprise.

Zach can’t unknow it. He knows that he’d be irritated if someone ruined a proposal he was planning, so he tries his best to forget what his mom said; fishes his phone out of the sink and drains the water without so much as looking at the dishes, then doesn’t do a single useful thing the rest of the afternoon.

He _tries_ , okay? He tries really, really hard, and it’s not his fault, he just- he can’t stop thinking about it, running through a million increasingly terrible scenarios where Willy’s on one knee in the midst of a flash mob or a musical number or any number of awful public proposals, most of which probably involve some kind of heart confetti or equally tacky Valentines’ paraphernalia.

He’s still stressing about it that evening, sitting in the kitchen and leaning on the table, when Will gets home from hanging out with Kappy. The door’s only open for a split second, but Zach can hear the wind whistling outside, and when Willy comes into view, his cheeks are rosy pink from the cold.

“Zach,” he says, pleased for no real reason except, apparently, that Zach’s here. Zach watches Willy unwind his scarf before turning back to staring at his phone, which is currently submerged in a Tupperware of rice, because that’s what the internet said to do. “Why are we watching rice?”

“I dropped my phone,” Zach says, then, when Will looks confused, “In a foot of water.”

“Ah,” Willy nods sagely, and scoots a chair closer to Zach to sit. He peers at the rice as well. “You could just buy a new one.”

“I could,” Zach agrees. He probably will eventually. Couldn’t hurt to try, anyhow.

Willy leans on Zach’s shoulder, making himself comfortable the way he always does, and it’s a familiar enough gesture that Zach can’t help but relax, just for a second. Willy wants to _marry_ him.

“Hey,” Willy says, still nuzzled up to Zach all cozy. “So I was going to ask-”

Zach was lying about being relaxed. He’s never been less relaxed for a single second in his life.

“Wait!” he yelps, before Willy can finish his sentence, leaping to his feet fast enough that Willy has to catch himself on the counter so he won’t fall off his seat, which Zach feels a little bit bad about, but- he’s in boxers and a Furies t-shirt and there’s dry rice all over the counter, he can’t get engaged like this.

Willy raises an eyebrow. “I was going to ask if you wanted to watch the end of Alex’s game before bed,” he says, slow.

Zach blinks.

“Oh,” he says. “Sure.”

“You do?”

“I do,” Zach says, then blanches, because- fuck. “Not- I mean yes, that’s- yes from me, confirmed. Roger that.”

Willy crinkles his face up, all cute. “You’re being weird,” he says, kind of laughing.

“No I’m not,” Zach says, fast. “You’re being weird.”

“I just got here, Zachy,” Willy says, bemused, and flicks a grain of rice off the counter and in Zach’s general direction.

Zach needs to quit while he’s ahead, before he ruins a proposal that hasn’t even happened yet. “I need to go shower,” he says, blunt. “I smell awful.”

“You smell fine, I think,” Willy says.

“You’re biased because you love me,” Zach says. “Be more self aware, William.”

He’s an idiot. He’s a trash fire disguised as a human with a mouth that doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up.

“…Shower now,” he says, backing out of the kitchen, because sure, that’s how sentences work.

Willy doesn’t bother being suspicious. Zach’s not sure he knows how. He’s the most guileless person Zach’s ever met, takes the world at face value in a way Zach’s never quite gotten the hang of.

“Can I come?” is all he asks. Which-

“There is literally no universe in which I say no to that,” Zach says, and Willy beams like Zach’s the one doing him a favour here, like he doesn’t know what he looks like naked.

The night could go a lot worse, all things considered. William doesn’t propose, and Zach sucks him off in the shower, and they even manage to catch the end of Alex’s game before bed, at a reasonable hour because they’ve got practice tomorrow.

“Night,” Willy yawns, shutting off his light right as the clock flashes 11:30.

“Night,” Zach echoes, and kisses the back of Willy’s neck before rolling over and fluffing up his pillow. He nearly manages to drift off to sleep, too, except then he starts wondering about what kind of ring Willy bought, and if he’s susceptible enough to marketing tactics to have purchased one of those ridiculous silvery heart rings from the jeweler commercials on TV, and he’s going to expect Zach to wear it for the rest of his life, as if it’s not bad enough that Zach’s going to have to tell people he got engaged on Valentines Day, and-

 _Damn_ it.

\---

February 14th is… what it is.

They show up for practice and Zach nearly walks into the string of heart-shaped tinsel someone put up around the entrance, and Katie from media gets it on video for the team Snapchat, which, why not.

It’s a relief when Zach’s finally in his gear and on the ice, at least until Mitch Marner happens.

“Take those off right now,” Zach says, flat, because he’s fully supportive of personal fashion, but heart shaped novelty sunglasses most definitely do not count.

“You’re jealous, huh?” Mitch asks, cockier than he has any right to be.

“This whole holiday is a corporate scam,” Zach says, unimpressed, while they’re waiting for the rest of the team to trickle onto the ice. Mitch makes just the worst face ever.

“Oh my god,” he drawls, hitting his head on the glass with a dull thunk, all dramatic. He’ll break his glasses, if he’s not careful. “You know you’re allowed to like things sometimes, right? It’s fun, you should try it.”

“I’m fun,” Zach says, defensive.

“You aren’t,” Mitch says, with not even a second’s hesitation, which is mildly insulting. Zach’s fun. He let them have lights-out at midnight, when they were roomies. “You’re lame, and a dad, but I love you anyways.” He lowers his glasses just enough to meet Zach’s eyes, all earnest. “Love is in the air, Hyms,” he says, and Zach wishes he was being ironic, but he doesn’t think Mitch knows how. “You just gotta listen.” He taps the frames of his dumb glasses.

Auston hits the ice and slides to a stop next to them, leaning on the boards. “Hey, Marns, I was-”

“Matts!” Mitch cuts him off, spinning into Auston’s space without a second thought and slinging an arm around his waist. “Tell Zach he’s a dad.”

“You’re a dad,” Auston says, obedient, and Zach very politely pretends not to notice how embarrassingly quickly Auston tugs Mitch closer.

“Daddy,” Willy chimes in as he glides past, and Zach shoots him a look that he fully intends to be unimpressed but comes out besotted enough that Mitch doubles over and starts making gagging noises, which is frankly just very inconsistent with his whole gung-ho for love thing.

The coaching staff starts corralling everyone, and Zach’s never been more grateful for a normal, boring practice. They’re on a bit of a win streak, four games, so no one’s really shuffled around for line rushes, and they’re all focused, just quiet and the occasional whistle and the kind of work that comes easy when they’re playing good hockey.

Johnny’s shot slips through Sparky’s five-hole, off Zach’s pass, and Zach taps them both on the pads as he circles around the net. “Got you that time, eh?” he chirps, and Sparky takes off his helmet, but he’s looking right past Zach, points over his shoulder.

“Check this out,” he says, and Zach turns around to look. Up on the jumbotron is a huge pink heart, animated rose petals falling all around it as cursive text appears: _Will you marry me?_

Zach’s blood runs cold.

“Oh god,” he says under his breath, because Valentines Day is bad enough on its own, but combined with a jumbotron proposal in front of all their coworkers, it’s- the word ‘cliché’ is insufficient, it’s like if someone followed a WikiHow article on how to propose at a sporting event.

Zach searches for Willy, frantic, half expecting to find him on one knee beside him, but no, he’s standing with Naz and laughing up at the screen, and then there’s a shriek from the other side of the glass – Katie from media, for once not taking embarrassing candids of them, because she’s too busy sobbing as some guy slides a ring on her finger, then hauling him up for a kiss.

Well. Zach feels kind of bad for the WikiHow thing, now.

It’s ridiculously cheesy, but Katie’s team, kind of, so everyone hits their sticks on the ice, a few guys wolf-whistle. Babs looks kind of teary, which is both kind of sweet and incredibly bizarre, but also turns out well, because he lets them out early with a gruff, “Go be with the people you love.”

The locker room is pretty jovial, the combination of the recent wins and the holiday. Mo and half the D corps is wrestling Travis to try and get something from his bag, and Freddie’s fixing his hair in the mirror. Zach’s only half listening to any of the conversations as he steps out of his gear, kind of nodding along as Mitch pesters Patty about his plans.

“You have to at least take her out,” Mitch is saying, as Patty fixes him with a look. “Where’s the romance?”

“It’s a school night and the boys have practice,” Patty shuts him down smoothly. “Bug the young guys about it, they’re the ones who’re supposed to have plans.”

“Zach and Will are even more boring than you,” Mitch complains, and Zach flings his jock at Mitch’s face, karma.

“We’re actually going out for dinner later,” Willy pipes up; then, when Zach looks over at him, eyebrows raised, “Surprise.”

A restaurant proposal, then. Not a jumbotron, at least?

“ _That_ is romance,” Mitch says, and high fives Willy, all proud. “I fucking love it, dude.”

Willy returns his high five; just shrugs kind of proud of himself when Zach makes a face at him. Auston, who’s been listening mostly quietly from Zach’s other side, perks up, hopeful. “Hey, Mitchy, maybe when we’re hanging out later we could-”

“Ohmygod someone got Travis _flowers_!” Mo shrieks from across the room, and Trav is blushing as bright red as Zach’s ever seen, and really, it’s their obligation as teammates to head over and make fun of him, then.

\---

Time slows to a crawl, in the space between practice and dinner. Zach’s sitting up in bed, skimming through the latest proofs his illustrator sent, absentmindedly playing with Willy’s hair as he naps. Zach’ll have to wake him up before dinner, with time to spare, if they’re going somewhere nice. It’s usually somewhere nice, when Will picks – the guy’s happiest doing what the people he loves want, except for when it comes to choosing what to eat for dinner, when he becomes the most opinionated person in the world. It’s cute.

Zach flips a page. Willy’s eyelashes flutter, and he snores softly.

Zach’s happy, on this particular occasion, that Willy’s asleep, because it means they’re getting incrementally closer to surviving this day without a proposal.

He peers over at the clock on his bedside table. Nine hours left. He can delay a proposal for nine hours. Nine hours is nothing.

Another minute ticks over.

Eight hours and fifty-nine minutes.

\---

Parking takes approximately a million years, because – shocker – every other couple in the city apparently had the same idea, but Zach hasn’t eaten since breakfast and Willy picked out one of their favourite restaurants, this cozy little place pricey enough that it feels like an occasion just walking through the door.

It’s a suit and tie affair, and Zach still despairs of the place being packed wall-to-wall with couples, but alas, he is but a man with literally the hottest partner on the planet, and any opportunity to see said partner in a suit – complete with a jacket with pockets just the right size to conceal a ring box, Zach’s brain notes – is not something he can bring himself to regret.

The maitre d’ leads them into a private room, a table for two nestled into a little nook that’s lit soft and low with flickering candlelight.

“Nice, right?” Willy squeezes Zach’s hand, and Zach can tell that he’s looking for approval.

“It’s alright,” Zach says, because he doesn’t know how not to be sarcastic, but once the waiter leaves, he ducks in to press a kiss to Willy’s cheek, quick. “Thank you.”

The date aside, it’s a good- well, date. Zach’s not particularly surprised by that – the food at this place is great, and conversation’s always come easy for the two of them, meandering through family gossip and chirping and ridiculous hypothetical debates as they make their way through dinner. Zach starts out on high alert, hyperaware of every little movement Willy makes in case it turns into him getting down on a knee with a ring, but he can’t help but relax bit by bit.

“A Pegasus has _hooves,_ ” Willy’s saying, counting out his points on his fingers. “No, listen, it has hooves, and big giant wings, you think it couldn’t win a fight with a stupid baby?”

“Cupid is literally a Roman god,” Zach argues, his salmon steak mostly forgotten. “Like, son of two mythologically powerful beings, William, he could _destroy_ a flying horse.”

“Nuh uh,” Willy shakes his head, stubborn. “You’re not allowed to be a know it all about a holiday you hate. Not allowed.”

“Cupid’s hardly even a Valentines thing,” Zach points out, petty, and Willy laughs out loud. “You know I’m right.”

“You hate today so much,” Willy laughs, like Zach’s misery is providing him endless amusement. Fine. “Do you have some tragic Valentines backstory?”

“If I did and it took you this long to ask, wouldn’t you feel terrible?” Zach asks. Teasing, a little.

Willy looks skeptical. “Do you?”

“No tragic backstory,” Zach allows. “Just a reasonable human.”

“Why?”

“Why am I a reasonable human?” Zach asks, just to be a dick. Willy just leans on the table and waits. Zach sighs. “I don’t actually hate it as much as you think I do,” he says. “It’s just stupid. Why do I need a day where it’s socially mandated to have some- some contrived romantic moment?”

“What if a romantic moment was going to happen anyways, though?” Willy asks, contemplative. “Wouldn’t it be nice for the rest of the world to match the mood?”

It’s not the point Zach was expecting him to make. Kind of a nice idea, if he thinks about it. Clever, the way Willy is sometimes, in this understated way. “If it’s a good enough romantic moment the world will match anyways,” Zach says anyways, because bickering’s fun and judging by Willy’s smile, he agrees.

“That’s deep, Hyman,” Willy says, Zach watches him folding his napkin. Doesn’t think Will even realizes he’s doing it. “Your next book should be a romance.”

Now it’s Zach’s turn to smile. “For grade schoolers?”

“We can read it to our kids one day,” Willy says, and his eyes flick up to meet Zach’s, not quite serious but not quite joking, either, not fully. Testing, maybe.

“We’re having kids now?” Zach asks, amused. It’s a nice thought, the kind of thing they’ve discussed before, if only in broad strokes – both of them come from big families. Zach knows Willy loves kids.

“Well, eventually,” Willy says, unbothered. “Some things to take care of first.” He smooths his napkin out, neat, and Zach doesn’t panic and jump out of his seat at the vague hint of proposal-talk, this time, which he thinks is an achievement.

“Have you tried this fish?” he asks instead, scooting his plate towards Willy and keeping his voice bright. “Try it, it’s great.”

Willy rolls his eyes, but he does try the fish, and Zach hooks their ankles under the table, and if he steers the conversation into safer territory, Willy doesn’t notice or call him out for it.

They linger, even once they’ve finished eating. Perk of a private room is that no one’s bothering them to leave, and it’s not even passive-aggressive when the waiter shows up to clear their plates and ask if they want dessert.

Zach looks at Willy, waits for his cue to see if he wants to split their usual slice of chocolate cake.

“I actually had plans for dessert,” Willy says, then looks over at Zach, all meaningful, as the waiter bows out. Zach’s breath catches in his throat. They were _so close_ to making it.

Willy continues speaking, slow, as he reaches down, into his pocket. “Because, you know, I figured-”

They’re going to be the couple who gets engaged in a restaurant on Valentines Day. This is Zach’s life, and this is the man he loves, and he’s going to say yes and not even be able to be disgusted with himself for it.

He braces himself for waiters with champagne and one of those gross little cakes with a sparkler in it, watches and tries not to flinch as Willy pulls out-

His phone. It’s just his phone.

Zach exhales.

“One sec,” Willy says, and answers the call he’s apparently getting, holding the phone up to his ear and frowning. “Matts?”

\---

The problem, Zach reflects, is that he and Willy are too nice. Or too good at seeming nice. One of those two, definitely, because that’s the only reason he can think of for why they left dinner and rushed to Auston’s condo after he called them in a panic, all weird and clammed up and refusing to explain everything over the phone.

“If someone’s not pregnant or dead I’m killing him,” Willy says as they make their way down the hall, maybe a little irritated at having his dessert plans blown up. Zach does not make a comment about dodging a bullet, because he is a loving boyfriend, just knocks at Auston’s door.

Auston’s there in an instant, but he only opens the door the smallest possible crack, peeking out at them.

“Is anyone with you?” he asks, wary. Or- Zach assumes it’s wary. It’s difficult to gage sentiment with a centimetre-wide sliver of someone’s face.

“We brought Coach,” Willy says easily. “To set the mood, you know-”

“No one’s with us,” Zach interrupts, elbowing Willy. “What’s wrong?”

Auston pokes his head out and glances up and down the hall, furtive, before beckoning Zach and Willy in closer.

“I need you to dispose of a bear,” he says, low and conspiratorial.

So. Why fucking not.

“That is an animal control thing, not a teammates thing, Auston,” Zach says, more than a little alarmed, because he gets that he’s kind of a jack of all trades, but he can’t reasonably be expected to wrangle a _bear,_ he doesn’t think.

Auston looks around one last time before stepping back and pulling the door open so Zach can properly see into his apartment for the first time.

The fortunate thing is that Auston doesn’t reveal an actual bear. The less fortunate, but infinitely more incredible thing is that what he _does_ reveal is a giant teddy bear, taller than Zach, a monstrosity of white fur holding a red plush heart with a 16 and a 34 embroidered smack-dab in the middle.

Willy sits right down on the carpeted hallway floor and starts laughing.

“Oh, Matts,” Zach says, stunned beyond words, which is a lot, for him. Words are his _thing_.

“Listen,” Auston says, grave. “You guys probably didn’t notice, but I kind of have a thing for Marns.”

Willy’s literally rolling on the ground, silent tears streaming down his face from laughing so hard.

Zach has never tried harder at anything in his life than he’s trying not to laugh, right now. _Be supportive_ , he orders himself, stern. _Be supportive_.

“No way,” is all he manages to say, and his voice cracks a little at the end with the effort.

“I know,” Auston says, clueless. “It’s like- it’s been a while, and I don’t even know if he likes me back, but I was talking to my sisters and they kept telling me to be spontaneous or whatever, because Mitch wasn’t getting it, but then I went on Amazon and, I mean-”

“You bought a six foot tall Valentines bear,” Zach finishes, and he has, just, _so_ many questions – how much was shipping, did the custom embroidery cost extra, who the hell thought it was a good idea to let this guy have eleven million dollars – but Auston’s talking before he can get them out.

“I just need you to get it out of here, please,” Auston says, pleading. “Mitch is going to be here any second, and you guys are the only ones without big plans tonight and I- like, I don’t know why I thought I could do this, I can’t fucking do this.”

He looks really and truly terrified, enough that Zach can’t help but feel a little bad for him. Zach does not miss the miserable pining part of his life, not even a little.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, let’s just- deep breaths, maybe.”

Auston inhales, deep, and Willy does as well, huffing out the breath as he manages to pick himself up off of the floor. Still giggling.

“You made my day, Matts,” he says, wiping his eyes, which- minimally helpful, William.

From inside of Auston’s apartment, there’s a loud buzzing noise, then Mitch’s voice loud over the intercom. He must be standing right up close to the speaker. “Hello-o, let me in so we can Valentines this bitch.”

“Fuck,” Auston says, sheet-white. “Fuck, fuck, go-” He all-but throws the bear at Zach and Willy, herding them down the hall. “Go, go-”

“What’re we supposed to-”

“Go!”

So they do; Zach heaving the bear down the hall as Willy dashes ahead to hit the button for the elevator. It takes both of them to manhandle – bearhandle? – the thing into the elevator once it arrives, and even then it barely works, ends up with Willy wedged into a corner, entirely pinned by the bear, as Zach splutters through a face full of synthetic fur.

The doors squeeze shut, and they start to move, and Zach breathes out a sigh of relief that turns into more fur-related coughing.

“He got it sewn with their _numbers,_ ” Willy says from his bear-induced prison corner, landing somewhere just short of amused horror, which is about where Zach’s at, emotionally. He’s never been happier that they’re a boring couple, if this is what counts as fun.

“How terrified do you think the Fed-ex guy was, one to ten?” Zach asks, and Willy giggles, high-pitched and ridiculous, because ‘ridiculous’ is the only possible descriptor for this entire thing, truly. This isn’t what Zach ever pictured, when he imagined playing for the Maple Leafs.

The elevator shudders to a stop, and Zach doesn’t get a chance to start contemplating how the hell they’re going to extract this bear from where they stuffed it in, because-

“Woah,” a muffled voice says, as whoever’s outside comes face-to-face with a giant teddy bear ass. “Can someone press the tenth floor button, please?”

“This is going to the parking lot,” Zach says, and then it hits him, why the voice sounds familiar-

“Hyms?”

Zach shoves the bear’s arm down and peers out from behind it, finds himself staring at Mitch, who’s standing on his toes to get a look around the bear.

“Zach, Willy!” He’s beaming, stepping right into the elevator and trapping them all in the cab as the doors shut and it starts moving down again. “What’re you doing here? And who’s this guy?” He sounds delighted, even reaches out and hugs the thing.

He doesn’t know, Zach realizes, still standing, frozen, by the wall. The numbers on the heart are out of sight, facing the corner where they’re suffocating Willy, who manages to speak up.

“Zach bought it for me,” he lies, smooth. Completely ignores Mitch’s first question. “I didn’t want to leave it at home.”

“Aw,” Mitch says, happy. “That’s sick. Bears are the most romantic present. Like a portable hug.” He reaches into the two square centimetres of space not occupied by the bear and holds out another, mercifully smaller teddy.

Zach stares, disbelieving, at the bear’s tiny jersey, decorated with a maple leaf and, inside it, ’16 + 34’.

“Cool, right?” Mitch asks, oblivious. “I thought it was kind of like a mini Carlton.”

“This is… for Matts?” Zach asks, and Mitch nods.

“I mean, we’ve been lowkey dating for a while now?” he says, which is a new development to Zach and, Zach’s fairly certain, would be to Auston as well. “But I want to lock it down. Show I’m really committed to us, y’know? For Valentines Day.” He squeezes his bear, more excited than nervous. “You guys think he’ll like it?”

“Yes,” Zach says, very decisive, as Willy buries his face into the giant bear’s chest to muffle his laughter. “Yes, he will _love_ it, Marns.”

There’s a ‘ding’ as the elevator comes to a stop, the doors opening at the parking garage.

“Huh, I thought we were going up,” Mitch says. Zach accidentally-on-purpose gets into his space, blocking him from seeing the embroidered heart while Willy lugs the giant bear out of the elevator. “Woah, careful.”

“Bye, Mitchy,” Zach says, jamming the ‘close doors’ button on his way out.

“Oh, bye!” Mitch says, bright. “Hey, you never said, why were you guys h-”

The doors slide shut. Zach watches the numbers on the little panel above the door flicker upwards.

“…Holy shit,” he says.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Willy agrees, and they both look at each other, then at the bear, the whole thing a little surreal.

It really is a massive bear.

This time, Zach’s the one who sits on the floor and laughs ‘til his stomach aches.

His fucking team. This fucking day.

\---

It’s late enough that, on a day like today, most places are either closed or entirely full. Zach can’t speculate as to what Willy’s dessert plans were, originally, but he can’t bring himself to mind what they become.

The radio’s playing, quiet, the car parked on a side street with the heat cranked up. They’ve both got their seats leaning back, their socked feet up on the dash, the cup-holders full with two cheap coffees and a ten-pack of honey cruller timbits, the best kind. The giant bear in the backseat is blocking the rearview mirror, but Zach doesn’t mind, utterly content to watch the flurries outside.

“Gotta say,” he announces, wiggling his toes. There’s a hole in the toe of his left sock. “I wasn’t expecting this, for your special dessert idea? But I’m into it, though, very Canadian.”

“Just for you, babe,” Willy says, gamely enough, licking the sugar off his fingers.

“I, uh,” Zach coughs, brings the tone as close to serious as he can. “I do have one very real concern, though.”

Willy peers at him, not quite worried, but reactive. Like this is genuinely a pressing thing. “What?”

Zach holds his gaze, straight-faced. “How come you never bought me a giant bear?” he asks, and Willy punches his arm, grinning. “I feel neglected,” Zach presses, goofy. “And- and unappreciated, and-”

“It’s hot when you use fancy words, y’know?” Willy informs him, poking Zach’s toes with his own, playful.

“-and disregarded,” Zach continues with renewed enthusiasm. “And despised, and abhorred- I can bring up the thesaurus app on my phone, if you give me a sec-”

“Of course you have an app,” Willy chirps, which, like, why wouldn’t Zach, he got rid of his paper thesaurus years ago.

“I’ve been told by reliable sources that my vocabulary is hot,” Zach says, smug; then, “Burning, sweltering, heated, sizzling…”

Willy’s head is thrown back as he laughs, and Zach’s heart feels all warm at the sight, Will and his unbuttoned shirt and his little-more-than 5 o’clock shadow.

The moment stretches out into a comfortable kind of quiet. Willy sips at his coffee, a smile still tugging at his lips. Zach picks out a timbit. They both watch the snow piling up on the windshield, round flakes tumbling along the glass while they’re warm inside.

Willy’s holding onto his coffee cup with both hands. “Hey, Zach?”

Zach looks over at him. “Yeah?”

Willy looks thoughtful. “I know you think that Valentines Day is a corporate scam?” he says. “And we’re too smart for this stuff? But I liked it anyways. Everything today.”

“I did too,” Zach says, and he’s surprised to find himself telling the truth. It was a nice day. In spite of itself, maybe. Still nice.

“I like everything we do together,” Willy continues, and Zach’s still Zach, so he still has that instinctive, _oh shit_ realization that this sounds an awful lot like a proposal, and it’s still Valentines Day, but- it’s also Willy, looking Zach right in the eye and speaking as earnest as anything. “We should always do stuff together.”

It’s the most natural thing in the world, then, for Zach to get a hand on Willy’s neck and bring him in for a kiss. Willy sighs into it, tastes sugar sweet against Zach’s lips, and all of a sudden, it’s this crystal-clear thing in Zach’s heart: fuck clichés. Fuck being better than commercial trash holidays, and fuck it if they have to share an anniversary with every other couple in the world. The when doesn’t matter, Zach just wants to marry this guy, and he _knows_ that, knows it with this abrupt certainty that he’s never really questioned but that hits him like a ton of bricks all the same.

He’s so, so in love. Everything else is noise.

Their lips part, but they don’t move apart. Just sitting in the front seat, bent in close.

“Zach?” Willy asks, again. Quieter, this time.

“Yeah, Will,” Zach says, again. He matches William’s volume, lets himself feel the anticipation he’s been holding at bay all day. He’s ready to hear the question, however Willy wants to ask it, and he’s ready to say yes and kiss the shit out his fiancé and finally call his parents and celebrate properly.

Willy looks right in Zach’s eyes, deep.

“It’s watching us,” he says, and Zach’s never been happier, he’s so, so-

“Wait, what?” he asks, when he realizes that Willy didn’t propose, not even close.

“Its eyes are so beady,” Willy says, and Zach realizes that he’s shaking with the effort it’s taking not to laugh, and even then, not doing a great job of it.

It’s- Zach huffs out a laugh, torn between amused and disappointed.

“Ridiculous,” he says, and reaches back to shove down the bear so they can get on with their night, only he must press a button or something because music starts playing from _inside the bear_ , tinny and pre-recorded and, yep, Zach realizes, definitely ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’.

Willy’s mouth drops open. “ _No_ ,” he says, and Zach doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry.

“I- how did he-”

“Oh my god!” Willy cackles, and Zach stares, disbelieving.

He’s tempted, sudden and utterly ludicrous, to tug Willy in for another kiss and demand that they get back to their romantic moment, because Zach had his epiphany, damnit, he wants his proposal, even if it has to be with Auston Matthews’ severely flawed idea of a love song playing in the background. But-

But Willy looks so happy, with a little smudge of sugar on the corner of his mouth, lit up in the streetlights, and Zach can’t make himself ruin it.

His mom was right, maybe. Good things come to those who wait.

He knows Willy wants to marry him. Knows that makes him the luckiest person in the world, even if he has to wait. So he will.

Zach can be patient, for this. Willy’s worth it.

\---

\---

\---

Zach gets up in the middle of the night to pee, forgets to turn the hall light back off and only realizes it once he’s back in bed, but decides it’s not worth the effort to go shut it off. Leaving bed for any reason sounds terrible, actually, when what’s in bed is Willy asleep on his stomach, curled around the space where Zach was.

Zach finds himself staring without meaning to, even as his eyes are heavy with sleep. Fair price to pay, when he gets to see Willy peaceful like this, hazy-soft around the edges in the barely-there glow from the light in the hall.

Zach eases himself into bed, and Willy stirs, blinking up at him. Zach leans over to drop a kiss to Will’s shoulder.

“You are so, so unfairly stunning,” Zach murmurs into his skin. “In case you weren’t aware.” And it’s the absolute truth, and that’s why he says it, but he also says it because he knows that Will likes to hear it, and it earns him a sleepy smile.

It’s not building towards anything, when Willy leans up for a proper kiss. Just slow, lazy, this leisurely press of lips.

“You stun me too,” Willy says through a yawn, which is maybe not quite what he’s intending to say, syntactically, but the main message comes across. He says it like he _means_ it, and Zach knows he does, which is just-

“Marry me,” Zach says, entirely without planning to.

Willy’s eyes fly open.

“Or-” Zach fumbles his words, because he’s an idiot who doesn’t know how to stop his mouth, and it’s some ungodly hour of the night and he just stole Willy’s gesture, which he wasn’t supposed to know about. “I mean, that’s- I don’t have to- like, unless you don’t-”

He’s slow to realize it, that Will doesn’t look annoyed. The opposite.

“I have a ring, Zachy,” he says, eyes crinkled up, he’s smiling so big. “I was going to ask.”

“When?” Zach asks, and he forgets to act surprised. Willy doesn’t notice. “When were you- uh, planning that?”

Willy shrugs, nonchalant. “Whenever it was the right moment,” he says, like it’s that easy. “I figured I’d know.”

And-

Of course. Of course, he was planning on winging it.

“Is this it?” Zach asks, fond and exasperated and utterly gone, for this guy. “The right moment?”

Willy meets his eyes, nearly appraising for a long second before a smile splits his face, like he’s made up his mind. He sits up, reaches past Zach to flick on the lamp, then to open the drawer to his bedside table and pull out a little box, black and plush. He looks at Zach one more time, like asking permission. Zach nods.

It’s the kind of thing where time seems stretched out, where every little detail is embedded into Zach’s mind and is going to stay there as long as he lives: Willy’s hair tousled and perfect, his tongue just barely poking out of his mouth like opening the box takes all the focus in the world, the simple gold band he takes out and holds out to Zach, like an offering.

“Do you like it?” Willy asks, and the question catches Zach off-guard, defenseless the way Willy’s always been able to do better than anyone else.

“You’re supposed to ask if I want to marry you first,” Zach says, because he defaults to snark instead of speechlessness, he always has.

“Oh,” Willy says, but he knows Zach too well to be offended. “I mean, you just asked me, so I figured you do, right?”

Zach nods, and it gets him that dazzling smile again, and his hands are shaking, just a bit, as Willy slides the ring onto his finger then looks up at Zach, stunning and stunned, and it hits Zach, then, that this just became _real_ , they’re going to get _married._

“Oh wow,” Zach says, overwhelmed, and it’s deeply and truly lame, but- it’s what he’s got, now, the only words he can manage around the lump in his throat. “Wow, I just- I love you? Wow.”

“You love me,” Willy repeats, eyes shining, and he cradles the words like they matter, and over his shoulder, the clock on the bedside table ticks over to 3:36.

3:36 on February 15th, Zach realizes.

He pumps his fist in the air. “Yes!” he whoops, because he’s engaged, and it’s a normal, entirely unremarkable day, _fuck_ Saint Valentine and all associated tackiness, and then he’s getting tackled flat on his back as Willy kisses him and dates and times and shitty holidays stop mattering at all.

(“Your parents are going to be really happy,” Willy says, later, carding his fingers through Zach’s hair. “They were so excited when I asked permission.”

Zach thinks about telling him. He really does. Just- the moment is perfect, and the sun’s coming up, and he doesn’t feel like explaining the whole debacle now. They’ve got time for that, to laugh about it. The rest of their lives, actually.

“I bet,” is all Zach settles on saying, and then Willy’s tugging him in for another kiss, his _fiancé_ is tugging him in for another kiss, and Zach settles into it, cozy and content in the moment they made.)

**Author's Note:**

> \- auston matthews, proud owner of a new teddy bear and an apparently not-new boyfriend, listening to a dial tone as zach and willy make passionate, just-engaged love, their phones on silent: i swear to god if these two think they’re not giving me that bear back-   
>  \- happy valentines day <3   
> 


End file.
